𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 • 18 || ❝𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫❞

>𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃

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𝐊 𝐑 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐈 𝐀 𝐍 • 𝐏 𝐄 𝐓 𝐑 𝐎 𝐕

The house is small and is falling apart, you can tell it has been abandoned and no one lives here. The wallpaper is slipping and separating itself from the wall, the floorboards are not wanting to be associated with the ground.

Each step I take is a slow one, a patient one. I have no idea what is hiding around the corner. Leonid is with me, eyeing up the left-hand side of the house and I'm in charge of the right. "Clear." I hear Leonid's gruff voice echoes through my eardrums.

I turn into the living room and do my rounds, pointing my gun out ready to shoot out if it has to. "Clear." I shout.

"Uh, Kristian." I trail Leonid's unsure voice, each step I feel myself falling with anticipation. I find him observing down a hallway with his gun lowered. I glimpse down the hall and find the bathroom, Mila's father is sprawled out across the floor with a crimson liquid floating out from under him, his facing the floor.

To make sure, I crouch down and check for a pulse. Nothing.

"He's gone." I confirm and look up, finding Mila in a sulked position with her head resting against the bathtub and the gun falling from her grip. I rush over to her, checking for a pulse. It's weak, but there. "Move that piece of shit." I bark to Leonid, pointing to Mila's father's body.

I crouch down again, sliding my arm around Mila's little body.

We make our way to the car, Leonid driving and me in the backseat with Mila's head resting on my legs. Leonid begins to drive, I look in the mirror and find Leonid staring, "Put Jace on speaker phone." I demand, Leonid does as I say and soon Jace's apprehensive voice vibrates throughout the car, sending jitters through the leather seats.

I give him our location to send a crew to clear up the mess, if word gets out Mila potentially shot her father, the news won't go well with his mini mob. Straight after the call, Jace is on it. Already sending out troops to clean and dispose of the body.

The bumps in the road become unhelpful when riding like a maniac, I wanted a full body examination of Mila to make sure she was okay by our Doc, I wanted her to rest and find anyone who was working with her father and kill them. But I was currently holding Mila's head from moving any more than what it already was, for all we knew we shouldn't have moved her, but there was no way I was leaving her there. I doubt she was paralyzed anyway. At least, that was what I hoped for her.

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Hours have past and Mila is now upstairs sleeping in her own bed, Doc said it would probably be best if she was in her own space, ready for when she woke. I wanted to disagree and require that she needed to be with all the medical equipment, but Doc managed to shut me down and carry it all up beside her bed.

Gaping at her tugged something in my chest, it was weird. Maybe it was pity, or guilt. Her pale face looked too perfect, her arms were at her sides, one containing a cannula with a drip inserted inside ready to re-fill her with the water she has been yearning for.

I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair and feeling the frustration on the tips of the strands. I stand tall and find Elias at the door ready to stand and guard her, although my grounds are well secured anything can happen, since Mila snuck in without hesitation or noticeable movement I've been more on edge regarding the safety of my men. Not necessarily myself, I wasn't afraid of dying. It was my job, a job I didn't just inherit, but I earned it. Earned it with each droplet of blood, from each life I had taken. Loyalty, I had proven. It was all mine. Yet, seeing those who I somewhat cared about, caused a foreign feeling to erupt through my body.

I tread out of the room, nodding at Elias as my thank you. He nods in reply, standing on guard with a chair at his side. While I was gone, Elias will be keeping an eye on her and when I was around, I'll be watching instead.

Glancing down the stairs I find Jace and Leonid already waiting for me, standing tall ready for any new missions. It's been hours since the shooting and yet I haven't even spoken to any other mafias. I fire off a quick message to the mob leaders I ally with and wish them well and quickly head back onto the task.

"How had he still been alive?" Jace asks curiously. I shrug, maybe someone didn't kill him properly, or we had a rat amongst us.

"Rat?" Leonid and I think in sync. I tense my jaw and both Jace and Leonid can see the rage laced within my face. My hands were getting clammy and my skin began to burn. "It's a possibility, find out everyone who was meant to be on duty the night of his supposedly death." I demand.

While talking with Leonid and Jace I hadn't noticed Erik's presence. He had welcomed us with a not so happy face. His knuckles were red raw, having his injuries on display. No doubt he's been beating up the boxing bag downstairs.

"Erik." I welcome while the others left. "Is there anything I can do for you?" I enquire. He looks at me, his face mixed with annoyance and wonder.

"How was he not dead?" He demands at me. I sigh, unsure on how to answer him.

"I don't know, we're trying to figure it out now."

He grabs a hold of his hair and tugs it lightly, "Can I see her?"

"Not yet, Doc's orders are for her to rest up." He sighs.

"She's been through a lot; her body has been put through trauma. Head blows, body blows...Looks like her father wasn't so loving after all." I state the obvious, any father in the mafia world was shit, whether they showed that to the public or not. It was obvious. They'd make their sons into brutal killers and marry off their daughters for unity or money. It was the norm.

"If you need anything Kristian, I'm with you." He pats me on the shoulder, leaving me and my mind finally alone. A bunch of questions have been hoarding my mind, not giving it any space to breathe or think about anything else. It was claustrophobic, exhausting. I glance down at my watch and suddenly realise how late it really is. Everyone has been out for hours.

I climb up the stairs, pulling my exhausted and beaten-up body up the stairs. I find Elias standing tall, barely a dark bag under his eyes. "Hey, go and get some rest." I demand, he nods and begins to walk off. The rest of my men are either doing their night shift or catching some shut eye and now, it was my turn. I shut Mila's door and walk over to the comfy chair that faces opposite Mila's bed.

I take a seat and my body finally feels at rest, physically anyway. My mind was still active and awake, but that was soon about to change. I keep my gun close as I watch over Mila, her copper hair sprawled over the cotton pillows, her eyelids closed as she rests peacefully. Since meeting Mila, she is always on edge, she is always in control. But right now, she doesn't look in control, she isn't in control in what is going on right now. She'd be more than happy to be awake and giving me a mouthful, but she has no choice but to lay there and catch up on rest her mind and body needs.

My eyes begin to roll, at first, I decide against it, fighting off the fatigue. Or attempting to anyway. But suddenly it was pointless, how can I give Mila strength and fight against her mouth when she wakes if I didn't have any fight in me? It was impossible. I let the tiredness attack my eyes, I close them, resting them until everything darkens.

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A few days have past and Mila has still not fully woken up yet. She's been stirring, but not waking up properly. For some weird reason I've been attempting to talk to her, trying to wake her up.

We managed to find everyone else who was involved in the shooting and rid of them, they were useless people anyway, one in which worked for me as a rat.

Selfishly, work isn't the only thing I've been thinking about. Every time I look at Mila, I find my stare lingering on her plump pursed lips. They're chapped from the lack of moisture they've received. My mind goes back to the night before our wedding, her coming up with the idea of kissing each other was a bad and complicated idea. Because all I seem to want to do is kiss her again, feel her lips against mine, feel that tongue give me attitude internally.

I gape at her further, not wanting to wake her just yet, but I approach her. Smoothing her wrist. The Doc is checking on her hourly by my command, and she seems to be fine. Her bruised ribs are getting better and her bumped head is healing slowly. No doubt she received a few concussions.

A knock erupts against the door, gaining my attention and resulting in me removing my hand quickly away from Mila's. "Yes?" I ask.

"Kristian, Cian wants to know if you're still up for the meeting in an hour? He is in the city and wants to speak with you." Talk about late notice, I nod.

I watch Mila's appearance get smaller and smaller while I back away from her and out of the door, Dimitry must've told Elias that I have been called to go elsewhere, because he is now sitting at his post. I try and work out his expression, but he has built a wall so high it's hard to read.

"In pain?" I enquire, Elias never sits unless he is in pain with his lower limbs. He shakes his head and continues to look straight, I leave him be and continue my journey down stairs, ready to see Cian.

Turns out the bastard was nearly an hour early; he was already waiting downstairs for me with a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Petrov, how are you holding up? I send my respects for your wife." He shakes my left hand, pulling me in to then pat me on the shoulder.

"Thank you."

We continue to walk towards my office, a space to discuss business. But I had a feeling he wasn't here just for business. "I assume everyone else your end is now safe?" He enquired, nosey fucker always getting involved. Sometimes Cian getting involved is either to show come sort of care, or just to get involved in other people's business.

"Everyone else is fine, what about your end?" He sighs.

"Quinn has a gunshot wound in the shoulder, Rory has a scraped leg. But they'll both live." He attempts to humour but the thought of losing any men causes annoyance, because that means someone soon has to take their place. We're luck no one from the other mobs died, a few of my men had been killed. Straight through the chest. We paid our respects and told their families, burying them peacefully.

"I'm sorry for your loss of your men Petrov, it's never nice to see good soldiers go." I agree, it isn't.

Another knock makes contact on the door, it was unfamiliar this time, lighter. "Come in." I state as I watch as Polina's small frame enters my peripheral vision.

"This came for you; it was sent a while ago." She nods to the envelope in her hand. She walks closer and places the envelope in my hand.

"Thank you." She nods and leaves, Cian follows on and says his goodbyes. I didn't need to speak to Cian long, we already spoke about business before my wedding, he just wanted to be nosey.

I examine the envelope, finding my name written on the front along with my address, but that isn't the only thing that intrigues me, I flip the envelope over and find the return address. It was the exact address where Mila and her father's body were found.

Without a second to think I tear open the envelope, the first things I scan for is who it is to, and who it is from.

The first line wasn't difficult to establish, the letter was sent to be so it was obvious the letter was going to be signed to me. But what I least expected was who it was from. It was from Mila's father.